2004-09-13
Blind As A Bat
hearing: Maps � Yeah Yeah Yeahs
reading: The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells
feeling: bored, wasted, fatigued, wasted, disjointed, numb and cold as ice, lonely, wasted... very very wasted
She took the words right out of my mouth.
Almost...I guess I differ slightly. And I'm slowly letting God pull and drag me out while I stumble and gasp forward. I don't have pills to pop either.
I was getting pretty addicted to that advil though...When you can't sleep your headaches away, you have to take something to get rid of them...
I spend and waste so much time and energy looking for things that aren't there. In anything and everything.
I cannot accept when things are simple or easy. When I finish things quickly, when I understand readily, I always suspect that there was something more to it, or something I missed.
In some ways, this is a good trait. I can detect fatal mistakes or holes in plans quicker than most people. Because I expect them. I'm looking for something more. I am searching for the complexities and pitfalls, and so when they are there, I find them.
But when there are none, I just muddle everything up. I destroy interpretations of other people's art, I destroy my own art, I destroy and complicate a lot of things. Because I think there must be some perplexing right or wrong way. I make everything more difficult and I lose a lot of the most fundamental points because I spot them first but jump over them because I'm expecting impossibly covert points.
Again, I've always done this. Even when I was a little girl. I remember being eight years old and curled up under my desk sobbing over a book report because I couldn't figure out how to write it. My parents showed me and gave me ideas, but I was certain they were wrong. Their solutions were far too simple. It had to be harder than that. It just had to be. But I couldn't find what that was.
The book report did get written. It turned out to be as simple as my parents told me it was. Of course.
I never did resolve that problem though. No...it's not a problem. It's just in excess. Overused. Applied too much to the wrong extremes. I need to find my happy medium.
Yes. The Happy Medium.
She comes up a lot these days...
She wears a turban of mauve silk and a flowing purple gown...twisting and turning her crystal ball in her hands humming, smiling and laughing..."If I ever saw her looking unhappy, I would be very depressed myself."
nods to Ms. L'Engle
PostScript: I am still the literature geek chic awesome. nods to Mr. Macdonald and Mr. Rossetti
